Experiments
by Littlemiss writer 2001
Summary: Sherlock is bored one day, so decides to conduct a very different experiment indeed... But will this experiment lead to the fall of his mask? And what will it cost John? ( pre-post Reichenbach to wherever it takes me.)
1. Chapter 1

( A/N There will now be weekly updates. I didn't write the lyrics. They are the lyrics to Britney Spears' Criminal. )

I lay on my bed , face down.

" Bored" I said loudly, to anyone who cared. I had finished all experiments, solved all the cases and deduced John to the point of murder. Although a homicide would have given me something to do, it appears that I would've been the object of his anger. So I had confined myself to my bedroom.

As I pondered the peculiar human emotions, and the way people were around me, I came up with a new experiment. Was John here? I listened for a minute. There was a clatter. Yes. He was. I picked up my gun, shooting six bullets into the wall. I heard a crash, and a thunder of footsteps.

" Sherlock! What the hell are you doing? " he gestured to my wall." Very mature " There was a yellow smiley face, and I had shot bullets into the shape of it. I grinned a little. Then I stood up.

" John," I said, moving closer to him. One step. " How would you feel about participating in one of my experiments? " He looked shocked , and repulsed.

" Not like that! Just a study in feelings, reactions and things like that" I took another step, closing the space between us.

" Uhh... Um ... Yes?" he said , staring at my eyes. I put a hand on the small of his back , and the other on his shoulder. I bowed my head, lightly kissing along his neck, up his throat, to his jawline, along his chin. I moved so his body would fit to mine, taking his pulse and brushing all along his arms in one move. I kissed back down his neck, feeling him relax into me. I gently tentatively flicked a tongue out, drawing it across his throat, causing him to pull away.

"Too soon?" I said lightly, not relenting my hold. I studied his expression. " can I borrow your laptop?" I let him go, walking out the door. He began to mumble a reply, but I cut across him.

" Thanks" I walked to the lounge, picking it up and sitting in my chair. I logged the new piece of information as I looked up the different ways to kiss him, and to evoke the possible reactions of love. Hmmm...

John

I stood breathless, long after he left. That was...amazing. He was an amazing kisser. I cursed myself. I wasn't gay. It was just an experiment... But good God, it felt so good. I dared to think... No, he was married to his work, he had said so long ago. I went to find him, leaning over his shoulder to find him looking at... The laptop snapped shut.

" What was thaa..." he cut me off by taking my face in his hands, and kissing me on the nose, turning around and kissing me on the cheeks. He gestured to my hand.

" may I? " my stomach felt funny. Kind of... Fluttery. I grumbled.

" it's the first time you've asked." he looked up at me, shirt ruffled , hair out of place, pale cheeks blushing.

" I'm sorry John. I'll ask next time." and he took my hand , intertwining it with his own. He took his other hand and placed it on my back. My heart thumped harder. He looked at me, eyes full of innocence. He closed his eyes, kissing our hands, my neck, my shoulders, my forehead. He drew back abruptly. He searched my face, stroking a thumb over my wrist. He shut his eyes again, placing his lips on mine. His warm breath was like mine, it came in short shallow gasps. His lips moved, moulding to mine. His tongue flicked out, teasing and gentle. It rested on my lips , asking permission. My hands were twisted in his hair. His tongue danced with mine, warm and wet, wrong yet somehow right. I reminded myself that this was Sherlock Holmes, the man who kept human heads and thumbs and in the fridge. He fell back from me, his hair a tangled mess, his pale cheeks a little more normal looking and his breathing fast. He ran his hands through his hair, fixing it and straightened his shirt out as Mrs Hudson came in. She saw me standing there, gaping at Sherlock, with my pink cheeks and twisted jumper.

" I'll just leave you to it then.." she backed off.

" Sherlock." I panted. " what are we? What're we telling the world is happening? " he turned to face me.

Sherlock.

I thought. Did he love me? Was I emotionally attached? Was there any rationality behind my unplanned behaviour? I tackled the easiest one first. I recalled the memories of him, flushed and smiling when I had pulled away. Yes. I think that is correct. The next one... Was I? I used to be so sure that emotion was a weakness, something to shy away from, to block out, but now...I wasn't so sure. And the last one... As far as I could see, there was no rationality. But I was beginning to see that there was no rationality, no reason, no pattern when it came to emotions. Maybe... Maybe... No. This is an experiment. I have to keep myself focused.

" Sherlock!" yelled John. I sat up, startled. He stood in front of me, arms crossed and waiting for an answer. Apparently the normal, human time for answering a question had come and gone.

" We are going to stay inside until we have decided ourselves." I sounded slightly like a petulant child.

* two days later*

John sat on the sofa, engrossed in rubbish late night television and a bottle of beer. I sat by him, wearing only shorts and a dressing gown, like him. I slid my hand into his. He didn't even look at me. I frowned. I guess I would have to try harder. I sat facing him, holding his hand and with one hand around his neck. I kissed his cheek, and he turned around. I put my arms around his waist as he put his around my shoulders. I kissed a slow trail down his nose, stopping at the tip and beginning at the hollow at the base of his neck. My hands began to slide into his dressing gown as I took it off him and caressed his chest. In return, he began to kiss me back.

John

I pulled us down, taking off his dressing gown and marvelling at his perfect chest, so pale it could have been carved from marble. I kissed his mouth, my lips succumbing to his overwhelming charm. His hands held me tight to him. My hands curled in his hair as his settled on the small of my back. Our legs were tangled together, and we lay on our sides. I broke the kiss, and he kissed all along my jawline, teasing me as I ached for his irresistible touch. He lifted his eyes to mine, and whispered.

" John. May I?" his hands were resting on my back, moving downwards. I could only nod as he pulled me into another passionate kiss. I gripped his arms, his back tightly in order to get him as close as I could. I tucked my head under his chin. I sighed.

Sherlock.

As always, I barely slept. I awoke pressed against John ,our bodies sweaty and limp , with him murmuring a word over and over again. I disentangled myself from him as gently as I could, wincing as I knocked a new bruise. That's strange. I didn't remember getting these.. I picked up my discarded shorts and dressing gown, pulling them on as I picked up a pencil, paper and my violin. I stood by the window, first playing , then writing. I worried about the blurring lines in the relationship. I put all my doubts and possibilities about John into the music I wrote. I grabbed my phone, pressed record and played my new music

As John opened his eyes, I played the recording, handed him tea and his clothes. I was, of course, already dressed. Once John had woken up, I picked up the violin, and asked him a question.

" John. Would you like me to teach you how to play the violin? "

He nodded. I beckoned him forward, and he stood in a circle of my arms, holding the violin like I did, feeling the warmth of his close body. I giggled as he made the violin screech.

" no, John. Like this.."

* several hours later*

I put the violin down. I sighed. I needed to be alone in the silence.

" John."

"mm?"

" can I have some space?" he left the room, looking strangely at me. I exhaled. I needed to talk to him, tell him that it was still just an experiment... I have allowed myself to feel, and I must not slip up again. I needed to be more guarded, and not get so carried away. I thought of how to word this to John. I had to put it just right, so he'd understand but would stay here. I sat down, sipping at a cup of tea.

" John? Come here, I need to talk to you." he walked in, looking very confused. " Last night... I felt something. Something special... But I want you to know that I still consider myself married to my work, and all this is simply an experiment. And what on earth is this?" I pulled out a sheet of paper from his laptop case. John blushed .

" it's a uh...song I wrote. You could read it...?"

_He is a hustler_

_He's no good at all_

_He is a loser, he's a bum (bum bum bum)_

_He lies, he bluffs, he's unreliable._

_He is a sucker with a gun (gun gun gun)_

_I know you told me I should stay away._

_I know you said he's just a dog astray._

_He is a bad boy with a tainted heart_

_and even I know this ain't smart._

_But Mama I'm in love with a criminal_

_And this type of love isn't rational, it's physical,_

_Mama, please don't cry, I will be alright,_

_All reason aside I just can't deny,_

_Love the guy_

_He is a villain of the devil's law,_

_He is a killer just for fun (fun, fun, fun),_

_The man's a snitch and unpredictable,_

_He's got no conscience, he got none _

_(none, none, none)_

_All I know should let go but no_

_'Cause he's a bad boy with a tainted heart_

_and even I know this ain't smart_

_But Mama I'm in love with a criminal_

_And this type of love isn't rational, it's physical,_

_Mama, please don't cry, I will be alright,_

_All reason aside I just can't deny,_

_Love the guy_

_And he's got my name tattooed on his arm, his lucky charm,_

_So I guess it's okay,_

_He's with me,_

_And I hear people talk (people talk)_

_Try to make remarks, keep us apart_

_But I don't even hear, I don't care_

_'Cause Mama I'm in love with a criminal_

_And this type of love isn't rational, it's physical,_

_Mama, please don't cry, I will be alright,_

_All reason aside I just can't deny,_

_Love the guy_

_Mama, I'm in love with a criminal_

_And this type of love isn't rational, it's physical,_

_Mama, please don't cry, I will be alright,_

_All reason inside I just can't deny,_

_Love the guy_

" and who is this 'criminal', this direction of your affections? " I asked.

He blushed.

" um. You." he mumbled. I laughed. Time to shut away emotions. And I kissed his forehead, making notes.

" also, why have I got bruises? " I asked, gesturing to the purplish shapes on my arms. John said nothing, but walked over and laid his fingers on my arm, showing the obvious similarity between the marks and his hand. I rolled up his sleeve, matching each one of my long, slender fingers to the coloured marks on his forearm. I heard his gasp. I didn't look up, keeping to my new regime . I pressed my head to his belly. The lines were blurred, and something needed to fix that. But how I could I, when John was the one I used to fix me.

" Look at us." he murmured. " Each of us using action and murders to get our highs, and look where we go after a couple of days without it. " I slid my hand under his shirt, lifting it up slightly. I imagined the scene from another's eyes. We looked too much like lovers, like a couple. That was it. We needed to get away.

John

" C'mon, Sherlock. We need food." I put my head around his door. He was still in his pyjamas. He grumbled, " you may need food, but to me it's all transport. " I raised my eyebrows, but didn't press the matter. Instead a texted a couple of mates, and we went out for a drink. When I came back, the house was filled with the smell of smoke. I feared the worst.

" Sherlock! " I yelled " Sherlock!" The smoke thickened, and I saw a hazy shape move towards me. I began to shake, and drew my gun from my pocket with trembling hands.

" I'll shoot! Stay back!" my voice shook almost as much as my hands. The figure moved closer, so I closed my eyes and squeezed the trigger. Blinding pain shot through my foot. A face emerged from the smoke.

" John? What're yo- " he stopped short when he saw my foot. I crumpled to the floor, taking off my shoe and sock with hands still shaking.

" Don't just stand there! Help me! " Sherlock bent down to brush aside my fumbling hands , picking me up and extinguishing the cigarette in his hand. I breathed in deeply. I kept reminding myself that it was ok, that I'd seen worse. As we entered the lounge, I began to cough. This was where the most smoke was. I coughed out instructions to Sherlock.

" Grab me my first aid kit from my room, turn on the fan and open all of the windows." I lay on the sofa, my body wracked with coughs. The smoke began to clear, and I worked on my foot. I got the bullet out, but it wasn't a clean wound. It was messy, and there was destroyed bits of my foot. I bandaged it up best I could. Sherlock was hovering behind me all the while, writing his music.

" Right." I said, sitting up and startling Sherlock. " I'm going to need a crutch, or walking sticks for about three weeks. What were you thinking? Smoking that much in the house... And I thought you had stopped that. Why now? Why? " I was starting to rant again, but Sherlock put his finger on my lips, and hushed me.

" What's that? " a wailing sound came from the street. We looked out the window, and there was no sign of anybody. Sherlock stood by the window, and opened it in order to hear it better. He looked down, and his eyes lit up.

" What is it ?" I asked again. " Sherlock? "


	2. Chapter 2

(A/N new update next week. Some of the scenes and ideas used later on are taken from and based around peanut14's amazing work. Go check it out! )

I pressed my fingers to the bottom of my chin, deep in thought. The close proximity of the wails meant that we were meant to hear them. I frowned. Not enough information. I needed to find out more. I opened my eyes. John stood in front of me, shouting at me. I simply raised an eyebrow and continued to block him out.

" Come on John. There's a crime scene to investigate." hold it together Sherlock. Caring is not an advantage.

" shot foot? Hello? Earth to Sherlock? Care to explain? " he said exasperatedly. Oh dear god, why did he have to make things so hard! I shut away my feelings firmly.

" No time, got to investigate. I'll see you in a bit. Goodbye." and with that I slammed the door. I ran downstairs, the ghost of a smile on my face. This was a part of something bigger. I could tell, from the deliberate wail that was close to us. Too close. I reached the scene, and noticed immediately that this was deliberate and not messy as it would first appear. The blood smeared everywhere was in a pattern. Not just any pattern. Morse code. And the wound. There was just one, and it was too clean to have made that much mess. Someone wanted me to play their game. But who? I didn't know, and I really didn't like not knowing.

John

I stared at the door after he had left. I thought about what he had said yesterday. He felt something... And I thought of that night, of all the little kisses and caresses that were an 'experiment'. I definitely wasn't gay. But if that had been any other guy, anyone but Sherlock, they would've been punched. I recalled his face as his movements became wild and without rational thought. His eyes, filled with desire and lust. Lust for what though? Me? No, that couldn't be it. I was just an experiment to him. I limped over to the sofa, sitting down and remembering the way he robbed me of my breath as he kissed every inch of my skin, whispered into my ear in his deep, beautiful voice. I shook my head. Nope, I refused to believe that he loved me. Or, indeed, that I loved him. Not that Sherlock wasn't capable of loving. He was, it's just that to get him to admit it to anyone, even himself, you had to work extremely hard. I winced as I stood up. I may need my cane again.

" John!" Sherlock practically sang as he came through the door. " Jaaawn! Come out of your cave, or wherever you are. We've got a case! " I grabbed my cane, grinning in spite of the pain. My heart sank a little. If we had a case, then there would be no experiment until we had finished with the case. No Sherlock breathing softly in my ear as he slept, no sweet little kisses as I came home from work. Even though I knew that it was only an experiment, I couldn't help but mix up all my confused emotions in it. I knew I wasn't gay, but this was Sherlock. Somehow he didn't fit into any of the little boxes that society fitted everyone else into. Bloody hell. I sounded like him now.

" no Sherlock. " his disappointed face poked around the door. " You have not eaten for at least 4 days."

" 6" he corrected.

" my point exactly. I know it's all transport to you, but without it you can't function properly. And I won't let you out unless you eat with me. " he came into the kitchen, grumpy but compliant. I handed him a bowl of pasta.

" Eat. Also, I'm limping because of my foot." I sat opposite him, staring at him until he began to eat.

When I was satisfied he had eaten sufficiently, we left. He held the door open for me and rested a hand lightly on me as we went downstairs.

" Right. Bring me up to date please." we began to walk along baker street.

" A young girl was murdered, a clean and quick stab to the chest. However, there was blood smeared all over her, and a message written around her. Look." he handed me a piece of paper.

'_ well done Sherlock. _

_But I'm afraid this was only the start._

_ Come play a little game with me, _

_see if you can deduce who I am._

_ And why not bring your little lover with you. _

_I'll see you 1,2,4 or 9. _

_210, 28, 26, 27, 29, 219, 315, 37, 428._

_1,17,19 ' _

" I'm confused. What was with the numbers at the end?"

" Come on. Think, John , think!" Sherlock turned to face me.

" um... The first one... They're all square numbers. "

" Yes! Good John, keep going." his face lit up with excitement.

" the second one... They correspond to letters. 2nd row, 10th letter... TRAFALGAR . "

" Brilliant! Fantastic. Keep going, go on!"

" um... Umm... 1 is... A? Then 17 would be R, and 19 T? " I said, unsure.

" yes! You've got it. So there is a clue around the national art gallery in Trafalgar square. Excellent. Just excellent." he smiled. It was sort of creepy.

" Yes, that's all very well and good, but stop smiling. You're creeping people out." I hissed. We hailed a cab, and then Sherlock ran around, looking for something. I tried to keep up.

" Sherlock... Wait... I can't... " I panted.

" Come on John." Sherlock was impatient. I stood by Nelson's column, trying to catch my breath. Sherlock stared at the graffiti on the bench , thinking.

" Ah ha! " he ran to the museum. " Keep up! "

" Sherlock we look suspicious. We've got to act like we want to go there to look at paintings. "

" Right. Take my hand."

" What?!"

" Just take my hand. Two men walking around just separately is suspicious. A couple isn't. Now. Take my hand" he leaned over and kissed the top of my head as we entered the museum, our hands intertwined.

" Where're we going? "

" there was a number, and then SH, JW on the bench. The number corresponds to a painting in here. Presumably a place in London, or close anyway. "

I nodded, still trying to wrap my head around the idea that Sherlock's first idea for a disguise is us, together. We were getting strange looks, so he picked up my hand and kissed it. He then put one hand around my waist, and I put my hand on his chest as he pulled me in to kiss him.

" They'll look away. It'll mean less attention." he whispered in my ear.

We found the painting. We stood looking at it for a while, my head in the hollow in Sherlock's neck under his chin, with his hands wrapped around my middle. My hands rested atop his.

" So. Next stop, pudding lane. "

Sherlock.

I glanced sideways at him as we stood before another body, another young girl. In truth, I enjoyed acting with him in the gallery more than I should've. The people before us pulled her jacket off her, revealing the ripped back of her shirt. There were words etched on her skin.

_" Very good. Clever boy. Scarlet facial hair's living quarters is where you will go next. " _

Redbeard... It took me all my strength not to cry or show emotion.

" My family home." I said quietly. John was perceptive when it came to emotions and feelings. I hoped he wouldn't notice the slight tremor in my voice.

" Sherlock. Do you need to go home and prepare yourself? I know it'll be hard for you. " John placed himself in front of me, looking right into my eyes, his grey-blue eyes filled with undeserved concern. "No. " I muttered. He looked blankly at me. I repeated myself. " No. It's better to get it over with. "

John

We walked around Sherlock's childhood home. I said nothing. I could read more on his face that he'd have liked. He was obviously abused and bullied as a child. That's why he was scarred, mentally and possibly physically. Redbeard... A dog, possibly the last person or thing he had loved. We entered a room stained with blood. There was another person, laying on their back. They had been killed in the same way. Yet this one had also been beaten and had books thrown at her. Every one was a girl , around 12 years old. And they had each carried a message. Sherlock's phone buzzed as we stood staring at the corpse.

" Its Lestrade. He's quicker than usual. Normally he takes a day to catch up. " I smile a little before crouching down and examining her.

" died of the stab wound. Was beaten after. " I stated, turning her over and gasping at her face. It was beaten and bloody, with words slashed into her skin.

" Recognise this yet? Time to go home..." Sherlock read the words out loud.

" Sherlock! !" I yelled, taking a quick few photos and running outside, dragging Sherlock behind me. As we rode in the cab, my knee jiggled with worry. The door was already forced open. I found laying on her back in our kitchen. She was alive, and I cleaned off the wounds on her back. Words, again.

" Sherlock, come here. Look at this. She didn't see them at all. "

" Time for a rest, but remember to keep alert and that you must always play the game. John you must go to bed. You are tired and can barely keep your eyes open. I'll do this." he snatched the cloth from me, our hands briefly touching, and he pushed me away.

" Go. " I left and fell into a spiralling world of death and murder and blood.


	3. Chapter 3

I wiped Mrs. Hudson's back gently , then stopped, standing up and saying

" You'll be ok. Just give it rest. " I walked into the living room, lying on the sofa in my thinking position. I thought about the case, and about who it could be creating this game. A man called fitted the bill. His 12 year old daughter had been beaten almost to death, and we refused to help. Which gave him the incentive. And he certainly had the methods. But to find him we would have to play along with his game. My thoughts turned to John. The moments of passion. The sharp intake of breath whenever I touched him. There was something else there, besides the experiment. He had inextricably and irrevocably changed me. I knew that much. But what were his thoughts toward me? There was something there, in him with every kiss and caress. But what was it? I heard the door click open. Mrs. Hudson was coming to check on us. I didn't bother to open my eyes. John was so confusing... He had so many girlfriends, yet doesn't object to my experiment. Quite the contrary, he embraced it. He would continue to puzzle me, that John.

John

I woke to footsteps. I didn't open my eyes.

" G'way Sherlock. M'sleepin. " I grumbled. I didn't hear a reply, but saw the glint of a needle in the half-light. I opened my mouth to begin to scream, but before a sound escaped my lips, a rough hand was clamped over my face. This was not Sherlock. I felt a stab in my arm. Even as I struggled, I felt my body stiffening and refusing to obey. It felt so, so heavy. There was a scratch at my arm, and I was unceremoniously thrown into a rough bag. My consciousness slipped away, and my last though was of Sherlock. I prayed that he would come rescue me.

Sherlock

I opened my eyes. It appeared to be morning. I thought for a while, then decided against going to see John. I knew we would get a message when we were ... summoned , as it were. I played my violin, got dressed and typed up some case notes before getting bored and pushing open John's door. It was a shock. His bedcovers , normally straightened, were strewn across the floor. There was a clear syringe lying next to the bed, and a red stain on his sheets. As I got closer, I saw that the stain was a message.

" Well done.

I have your lover.

Took you long enough.

Do not try and find him, only follow the clues I give you.

Otherwise he gets hurt.

Ben's waiting.

Tick tock! "

I growled." not my lover!" I sank to the floor, remembering his flushed cheeks, soft lips and smooth hands. All my fault... Somewhere along this my logical mind kicked in. I got up, grinning in spite of John's kidnapping. My brain began to work, and I ran out the door and into a waiting cab.

John

I blinked, taking in my surroundings. Right. Kidnapped. I saw a girl, staring intently at me. She looked about 12, with dirty blonde hair and the most startling blue eyes.

" You've woken. Excellent! " her voice was high and taunting. I began to think of Sherlock, running around London trying to find me. Or maybe he wouldn't... I worried.

" If your lover knows what's good for you both he'll not be looking for you. He'll be following my little game like a good boy." she smiled at me with her piercing blue eyes that gave the illusion of innocence. That was clearly not the case.

Sherlock.

I hurtled around London, playing out possibilities through my head. I only faltered a little, finding many more bodies and messages etched into them. This was all clearly done by the same weapon, and Mr. Loom had many men working under him, but was this all his work? As before, at 10:00 I got the message in my old home , to go and rest. This simply meant laying on the sofa or my bed for hours.

John

" I'm terribly sorry, you must think me quite rude. I haven't told you my name! I'm Valencia Loom, and this was my late father's home. " She smiled a twisted smile.

" Late father? So your mother looks after you?" I asked, curious about her past but wary of her.

" Oh no, she's long dead. And I killed my father. " she stood up. " Tea!" she yelled. I felt afraid of this tall, thin girl in front of me. She was so dangerous, and obviously clever. But I could be cleverer than a girl. Couldn't I ?

" Don't think of trying to escape. It'll be worse for you and your detective later if you do." and she just sat and smiled at me. " Photo! Stand up. This is for your detective, to give him a little nudge in the right direction."

" Why?" my voice was surprisingly loud. " Why kill all these people and why leave a trail for Sherlock?" I stumbled over his name.

" Because my mother died when I was born and it was all my fault. Because I was nearly killed for being too clever and my little puzzles. Because although my father pretended, he still hit me and left me. Because I deserve a father, or indeed fathers, who love me for who I am. Because I've been broken." she sat again, a tear sliding down her cheek.

Sherlock

I fell asleep in his room, lying sprawled across his floor. I wasn't sure how I could sleep, what with John kidnapped and Mrs. Hudson attacked, yet sleep I did . I thought about him again, and of my irrational reaction to John. I thought of how I had locked away my heart, not even made friends. Except John. I had never kissed anyone. Except John. I had never gotten out of control with anyone. Except John. John was my only exception . I got up, rushing to his bedside. On the bed lay a picture of John, looking confused as guns and knives were pointed at him. The inscription on the bed beside it read:

" he is safe. For now.

Every time you slip up, he gets hurt.

I warn you not to guess at who I am,

I am unexpected.

There are two bodies in London now.

Every hour there will be another murder.

Until you have solved all my puzzles.

Then I will show you where we are.

Good luck.

We're watching. "

I breathed heavily. This was getting tiring, as much as I hated to admit it. I ran down the stairs, almost flying over the steps. I threw open the door, watching the people. A crowd walking, a tramp... There. A young girl lying down, apparently asleep. I ran over, reading the writing on her stomach.

" North of the sun and east of the moon,

Run a little faster,

You'll get there soon."

North of the sun... That had to be the printing office block... And east of the moon... The pub. Then that took us to... Bond street. I ran along the streets, barging into people and knocking them over. I didn't care I was painfully aware of the time slipping away. I cursed. Wrong place. I ran to the right place, regretting it as I remembered their warning. I take the pride, John takes the fall.

John

She smiled sadly at me.

" I'm afraid he made a mistake. I'm sorry John. But rules are rules, and we must play the game. " she drew a knife from her belt. It was covered in intricate carvings, and was black with silver initials.

" My weapon of choice. Hold still."

She leant over and, slowly, deliberately, cut a deep wound into my back.

Sherlock.

The right place. But it had had been an hour, so I was behind. And this meant pressure. And pressure meant slipping up. And that meant John being hurt... I erased the image of his pain-stricken face from my brain. No distractions. That was the last thing I needed. The more I thought about this, the more I understood. This all fitted. It had to be Mr. Loom. I arrived at the next body. After reading the message, I wrote one of my own. They were clearly clearing up after themselves. Why not. Across the message that read :

"Why did the chicken cross the road?

Because the game told him to."

I wrote :

" Stop now Mr. Loom." I then proceeded to the nearest zebra crossing. Nothing there. Again.

John

My back was bleeding. Quite a lot. I saw a small, sadistic smirk cross her face.

" Your Mr. Holmes is a naughty boy. He disobeyed, so you must take the fall. So it always is." she waved her hands and I was hit on the head by a couple of burly guards. Weakened by my back and foot, I couldn't struggle so could do nothing as I was tied up on a cross at the end of the room. The ropes binding my hands were tight, and I hung off the floor. My ankles were also attached to the cross, a little like Jesus. I began to panic when they brought out the whip. I prayed that Sherlock would come soon as the whip lashed across my face, my belly, my legs and my feet. My shirt was ripped from me, and I was turned around for access to my back. The whip stung, and began to almost break the skin in places. I bit hard on my lip as I was turned over to give my front an equal treatment. Then they stopped and left, leaving me hanging. I let a single tear run down my cheek.

" Sherlock. " I croaked.

Sherlock

When I reached the next body, my heart stopped. The message struck fear through me.

" Time is running out for you to follow.

John only holds on for you.

Every mistake breaks him and he knows.

Even he knows it's a little fishy.

There is one true and two false.

When you lose hope ,

look to the end.

Also, I warned you about mistakes."

My breath quickened. John was really hurt. I had to be quicker, better. I always knew I wasn't good enough. Never quite good enough. And John takes the fall. I sniffed. Fish. But which one? That took me back... I pushed away those images and memories. I followed my nose. I wasn't right again. All this pressure made me nervous. I tried again and again and again. Still no result. I finally found it, scared of what I might find written there.

" I'm going to put an end to this soon. You are falling to pieces, and we do want John alive.

Just.

Two Oranges, one apple. "

I swallowed my fear, and made it my aim to not get this one wrong. The apple store in the O2. Right.

John.

I was breathing shallow, energy gone from simply holding myself up. Then they came back, with a clear liquid, her knife and the whip. Without speaking, they began to dot the liquid over my body, and then took off my trousers. I recognised it as soon as it touched my skin. It burnt, so very very bad. Then she would get her knife and write on me from a ladder. She would smile sweetly while drawing on my chest, back and legs. Then she would whip me, drawing it across all my other wounds. After that, a dousing in water. Then it started all over again. An seemingly endless cycle of pain. I barely had the energy left to flinch when they left me alone. I had lost almost all faith in Sherlock. Almost.

Sherlock.

I could not forget John's confused face in that picture. I could not get rid of the feeling of his breath on my ear, of his soft lips, of his hair out of my brain. I was distracted, and began to run. Another body. I was there in time. Just. I decoded the message, found the instructions and ran. I ran so fast to come and get him, that I didn't notice the people behind me until I was already passed out on the floor.

John.

I needed food or water. I was not a machine. My lips were parched, my skin stinging from the flaying I received. I wriggled a hand. I had barely any energy, so the bonds were tight to me , but I was able to wriggle free. I didn't get very far before she was back, tutting and shaking her head.

" Cant have that, can we? " and she broke both my wrists in a single, fluid movement. I was strung up again, and the pain blinded me. I was seeing white and black circles encroaching upon the edge of my vision. I swallowed my tears. They could wait. Sherlock would be here soon. I gasped, in spite of the pain it brought. They carried him in. His shirt was crumpled, he was thinner and paler than usual and definitely unconscious. He would wake up soon, I knew it. He was resistant to most drugs. As I thought it, his eyes fluttered open.


	4. Chapter 4

( A/N thanks for everyone who read this so far! I'm so grateful that you take time to read this. )

I opened my eyes to a strange room. I sat up. There was a tall girl there, with blue eyes not too dissimilar to my own, and long hair the same colour as John's. That must be Valencia Loom. I looked past her to a statue of Jesus on the wall. I looked closer. Not Jesus, but John! Cut and burnt and whipped. His eyes said he was so pleased to see me. His body said he wished I'd been faster. He looked terrible. There were words etched deeply into his skin. Cruel really.

" I am Sherlocked. Johnlock. Sherlock. " many words such as that were marked on his body. I took a look at the girl. She smiled sweetly at me.

" Oh dear oh dear, you've really broken him now, haven't you. Poor John, stumbling around after you, hardly able to keep up with his mundane brain. Not like us." Her voice lowered, became urgent. " We're special, you know that? We are different. We think differently. But you are not unique. Don't think for one second that you are. " I wondered why Mr. Loom would involve his daughter so closely. Then I remembered. It wasn't him. I stared at John, gazing at the marks of my mistakes. I didn't let my gaze leave him, letting him know I was here.

" If you would be so kind as to take me to your father, Valencia. You have played long enough in a grown up game. " she smirked.

" You really didn't learn, did you?" She laughed, a high tinkling sound that filled the room. " For your impertinence John will be punished, then I can take you to my father. I promise you it won't be as satisfying as you envisage it to be. Never underestimate people, Sherlock." Valencia stepped up on the ladder before John, pouring a clear liquid on him dot by dot. I could see how much it hurt from the way he strained on the ropes as it came into contact with his skin. She finished, stepping down from the ladder and admiring her work.

" The problem with you, Sherlock Holmes, is that your only pressure point is other people. That does make it incredibly easy to hurt you... Anyway. My father. Let's go." She smiled a twisted grin and led the way. I followed her, more curious than anything else. I realised the power she had over me as long as she had John here. We came into a study. A man sat in the chair at the desk, facing away from us. I cleared my throat. He didn't move. I stepped closer. I then noticed that he wasn't breathing. I went to examine him closer, confirming that this was definitely Mr. Loom, and his daughter had killed him. She tutted.

" Mr. Holmes, we have found your hamartia. You underestimate people, or simply discount them because of age. But as you have witnessed, and already know, those with great intellect are not really able to be classed with the others of their time. And as for motives? I have all the reasons. One: I was nearly killed by those girls for knowing too much and for my little puzzles. Two: My mother died and it was my fault. Three: My father beat me, and didn't really care. Four: I need a father, or fathers, who can take care of me, who understand my need to create and solve puzzles. Five: You and John are the people I want to raise me. " She finished telling me this, and I could not do a thing but sit and stare. She was amazing. She was highly intelligent, but where mine had drawn me to drugs, she turned to murder. This was a brilliant plan. Except for one thing. She hadn't counted on my ability to mask myself from the world, so I could just walk away then come back for John with back up. Unfortunately it didn't look like that was going to happen. I stood up straight, hands behind my back. I tried to work out what was going on in her mind, but to no avail. She just perplexed me. She had every reason, but I couldn't see the thought process like I could with everyone else. Well. Everyone but her. I pushed my thoughts away from Her. Valencia smiled a little.

" Satisfied? Come, let's go and sit. I'm intrigued, Mr. Holmes. You must sit and tell me what's going on in your brain while you try and figure me out. " she turned on her heel, and the two men who had followed us poked me forward with thier guns. I kept my expression neutral as I pondered how to escape. As we re-entered the room with John in it, a gasp escaped his lips. Valencia ignored him, inviting me onto the sofa opposite her.

" Tell me, how far have you got in working me out. No need to look surprised, I can read you like a book. That's why I took your lover. " I opened my mouth to deny it , when John groaned in pain and I glanced over at him, checking he was ok. He wouldn't last long. I had to get him out.

" Not my lover. Simply an experiment." I replied, surprised by my light tone.

" Oh, but we both know it is much , much more than that. I can tell , from the way you react when I call him your lover, from the way he reacted. From the way you look at him every time you enter this room. You pride yourself on being impossible to read, but I can assure you this is not the case. Mycroft , myself, your father..." I flinched at the last one. " You are planning on taking John away and leaving. But you won't leave with him. And Lestrade just thinks you're sulking. Your brother may come looking for you in a couple of days, however until then I could do anything with you." she smiled, a twisted, broken little thing. She kept smiling at me. It was a sadistic thing, and meant...it meant...it meant...I am going to do awful things to you and there is nothing you can do about it. I allowed myself a moment of celebration before moving onto the next thought. She liked to be in control, yet twisted her hands together whenever she was. So she was naturally a controlling person, yet a childhood of suppression had meant that she wasn't sure of what to do now she had power. So... Bullied? Yes, and growing up with a single parent who beat her and told her it was her fault her mother was dead. Also, being told her deductions and puzzles were unnatural, not right. My stomach twisted at the last one. Too much personal experience with that. My gaze drifted over to John, his chest and legs still dripping with blood. His wrists were strained, and out of shape. Broken. I swallowed. I needed to throw up the mask now. I had kept it down for the longest time in a while. I made my expression neutral.

" I think we need you to agree to something. You see, I will need a father. And I always fancied gay parents. But the problem with me is no one will want me, so I'll have to pick and choose who will be my parents. And you fit the bill. But that's not the only reason I'm doing this. A message was left for you in your flat. " she passed me a picture of the flat. On the sofa , written in blood was the letters ' I O U' I stared at them. Who? And why? Time to get out of here. I barely glanced at John.

" Take all the time you need to try and convince me. But I am asexual. No point in baiting me with an experiment."

John

I struggled to keep my eyes open, to focus on his words. I managed to catch the end of their conversation. And I wished I hadn't. Is that really all I was to him, an experiment? I began to doubt what I thought I had seen in his eyes when he kissed me, when he covered my skin with his own. I remembered the shock he had when he first saw me. Or was that just acting... I found it increasingly hard to focus. Black circles began to form at the edge of my vision. The room began to blur. I saw Valencia walk across the room, whip in hand. She turned me around , twisting my arms. She dragged the whip across the healing sores. I cried out, barely having the energy to. Blood trickled down my back, down my legs onto the floor. Judging from the pool of blood beneath me, I should pass out soon. She saw this, so applied pressure to my wounds. The blood flow stopped, but she began to bruise my skin, hitting out at the destroyed flesh. She went to my foot, pressing a finger into the healing wound. I cried out. I looked over my shoulder at Sherlock, but he didn't seem bothered. In fact, he looked slightly amused. Another twist of the thumb reminded me that I was probably going to die. I just hoped it would be quick...

Sherlock

I didn't realise how hard it would be, to keep up my mask and watch. He yelled as she drew the whip across his skin once again. She went to work on his front. His eyes were wild, open and staring straight at me. I tried to think of anything else to occupy myself. The quicker I did this, the quicker John would be released. So I tried to look slightly amused. He had stripes across his chest and back, and she could do no more there, so she took her knife out. It was mainly decorative, with patterns of exotic plants and tiny hummingbirds, but still deadly. She held it in her hand, tracing out a pattern on each of his legs with a thumb, when it occurred to me. Where did she get the men from? John's sharp cries brought me back to reality as she etched onto his leg. When she finished she quickly moved onto the other one, wiping up blood as she went. She then stepped back, allowing me to see the perfect pictures of John and myself carved into his legs. She span around, pouting at my lack of interest, or emotions.

" Told you. Asexual. Now, if you'll excuse me, my brother is probably wondering where I am. There is probably another mystery that the stupid Scotland Yard need me for. Goodbye John. I'd say see you later, but that's probably the wrong sentiment. " I turned on my heel and left.

John

Was I really so inconsequential? Was he really going to let me die? I didn't want to think so, but the disappearing shape of the detective made it seem so.

" Sherlock! Please. Sherlock!" I yelled, my voice hoarse and scratchy from two days without sufficient water. Another day and I'd surely die. And he knew that.

Sherlock

I nearly stopped as he screamed my name from his torture post, I nearly ran to him. But I knew I'd never get out alive if I did. So I simply paused, and said over my shoulder,

" I hope, for you, that death comes quickly."

( A/N cliffhanger! You'll have to wait til next week todare where I go from here)


	5. Chapter 5

(A/N I'm back! I'll be posting irregularly to compensate for the loss, but after that I will be regularly updating. I missed this, so just know that I write for the few who read. )

I walked out the door, my expression haughty and cold. Stupid, cursed emotions! And this stupid transport too. I remembered his face, twisted in pain as I left. What is the point in these stupid, stupid emotions? They only get people hurt, and make them do stupid stuff. I hailed a cab, and rang my brother on the way home.

" I told you so. Don't get involved Sherlock! " Mycroft's arrogant tones drifted down the line. I rolled my eyes.

" My not being involved is the reason I got out unharmed!" I replied.

" Don't be stupid. I saw you in your flat. Don't lie to me Sherlock. "

" Just experiments. Now on the point of getti-" my words were cut off by Mycroft shouting.

" Shut up! Just go back in there, grab him and run." I sat in the taxi, gobsmacked.

" Mycroft." I said wearily," If it were that easy then I'd get Anderson to do it. As it stands, I can't just waltz in there, untie John -yes untie him- and leave. This girl is a psychopath."

" Or just a high functioning sociopath. With your doctor." I growled at Mycroft's immature response.

" Fine, if you really won't help, then I'll just change my coat and go straight back. Have a car ready for me, and men ready for back-up, " I sighed, resigned to the task.

" Why can't you just go in?" asked Mycroft. I rolled my eyes. Stupid brother.

" Because the only way I got out there was by telling them I didn't care for John and saying that I had more important things to do. So by going back in I am proving myself wrong and so they will not let me out. " I arrived at baker street, receiving strange looks from people. I glanced down at myself to see what they might find so interesting. There was only a slight spatter of blood across my shoes. Hardly something to get excited over. I let myself in .

" Look, Mycroft. I'll go in, but I can't guarantee that I'll be able to get out. I'll try my best. " I sat in my chair, picking up a mug of tea as I thought. I grimaced. Cold tea. I disappeared into my mind palace, thinking about the best way to do this.

John

I was awoken by cool water being poured down my throat. I opened my eyes blearily, muttering his name under my breath. Small, cool hands undid the bonds on my hands and feet. I fell to the floor, being yanked along by Valencia.

" Mr. Holmes is a liar, John. And he disobeyed. You need to be moved. I think that would be sufficient punishment in itself. " Black spots flashed in front of me. The relief from the constant pain, the numbness, was now gone. My broken wrists hung limp and swollen, the slashes on my back, chest and legs were splitting open again from the unexpected movement. I stumbled along the corridors, shivering as the cold air from the open door hit my almost naked body.

" What happened to killing me?" I croaked, my voice cracking from the lack of use.

" Mr. Holmes will come back only if you are alive. So you need to be kept just alive. " She smiled sadistically. I tripped onto the concrete as my legs gave way. She took a knife and slashed at a vein in my leg, mixing the splatters with the blood already outside on the steps that imitated the blood from a cut artery. Sherlock would see the difference, wouldn't he? I clawed my way into a standing position, leaving bloody footprints behind me as I was pulled into a car. I passed out again as the car drove into London.

Sherlock

I took a taxi back to the house, my heart pumping faster with the chase as I saw the splatter of blood there. I crouched in front of it, seeing two patterns. The full on spurting of an artery wound next to the spatter of a slit vein. I then saw footprints that matched John's though.. So the artery wound was not the real one, for if John had a wound like that he would not be able to walk. I ran inside to grab his clothes and noticed his phone was missing. I got a text from his phone.

Naughty boy. Come and play the game? John is eager for you to see how his french has improved. VL

I smiled a half-grin. She was showing her true aptitude for puzzles. Before she was clearly not showing me her full potential. This was what I lived for, the chase and the games. I picked up my phone. Another text showed up.

He told me his favourite chocolate was after eight, so I gave him half of one. VL

I grinned widely.

" Hello?" I said into the phone " can I have one ticket for Les Miserables at 8:30 today? Under Holmes. Thank you "

John

My eyes opened to dark shapes rushing about in the half-light. Music started up and I realised I was backstage in a musical. After the opening song I realised it was Les Miserables. But why was I here? I shut my eyes, listening to the music and jolting every time a gunshot was fired. About what I reckoned was half way through, at the point that there was most shooting, I was dragged onstage. I was far too weak to do anything about this, and could only lay and groan amidst the actors as the scene started up. None of the others onstage noticed anything was amiss, and as I went with it I was pulled up to standing. I was blinded by the lights, the shooting beginning again. All the shots were blanks. All but one. And just my luck that that one should hit me. I fell into the wings, being instantly dragged away. My only thought as I lost consciousness was that Sherlock must be here. He must be, else I'd be killed.

Sherlock

I sat motionless as he was shot in front of me, knowing I was being watched. However, as soon as the play finished I raced out the door and round, up to the dressing rooms and backstage area. I pushed past the security , tearing through the rooms 'til I found one stained with blood. I slowed down and began to search through the room. A foot poked out from behind a chair. I went to investigate, because it looked like it had a 5 day old shot wound in it. I was right, it was him. He was passed out, and I tried to pull him out. From behind me came a small giggle. I whirled around.

" You'll never get him out. At least not like that you won't. " Valencia stood before me. I turned around, ignoring her as I lifted the chair off John. I put my hands under his body, one by his neck, the other by his legs, and lifted. I stood up, John hanging limp in my arms. Blood trickled from the hole in his left shoulder, just like the one on the other side of his left shoulder. When I turned around, Valencia had a gun and she was pointing it at me.

" Pity," she said " I was going to bring you in nicely, however I am going to have to shoot you first." I stood frozen, looking down at John. He was skinny, pale and covered in blood. His normally muscly chest was now limp and the skin seemed to almost hang off his small frame. She smiled.

" I'll see you later, Mr. Holmes." and she shot me. I fell to the floor, my shoulder in agony. My brain takes a second to register the pain in my left shoulder, and in the few seconds I am left standing, I stare at her as an act of defiance. I look across the floor to John as my consciousness fades. An errant thought crosses my mind. Our bullet wounds match. I am dimly aware of a pool of blood beneath my hand that belongs to John. Between long blink, I see a pale John being lifted. The floor moves away from me , and I wonder where we are going as I black out.

John

My first thought as I wake is of him. I saw him, saw him pick me up then get shot as I slipped from his warm grasp. Between wracking coughs I attempt to sit up. My eyes begin to adjust to the dim light when a cracked lightbulb flickers on, showing me the room I'm in. The four concrete wall are equal in length, and the grey metal door opposite me is heaving looking and windowless, displaying nothing of outside. The room is empty at a glance, so I attempt again to get up. I am then aware that I am handcuffed to something, or rather someone. A groan from behind me tells me that it is a man. I turn around and see Sherlock, lying, coat and all , attached to my arm. He looks in pain, and very thin. After the wave of emotions, my doctor's training kicks in. I examine him one handed, as best I can . I try to converse with him, which is difficult at the best of times, not least when we had both been shot, and I almost tortured to death. Nevertheless , I gave it a try.

" So. Sherlock . You came back for me." I am surprised at how hoarse my voice is.

" couldn't just... " he searched for the words, biting his lip as though unsure of what to say. " leave an interesting case unsolved. " he has to force the words out. I winced as the clothes I was forced into rubbed at my wounds. The pain was almost bearable now . Sherlock pulled us upright, brushing off all my attempts to inspect him. He sat, cross legged across from me. Him just...sitting,with his lips pursed made me think of those few days in the flat... I hardly dared think of it. But he looked so irresistible... My internal battle contorted my face in ways that were apparently funny. Sherlock brought his hand to his mouth , unconsciously bringing my hand with it. The contact with my skin mades my nerves tingle. It was too much . I leaned forward and kissed him.

(A/N just a quick little note. I've found this awesome person who never fails to make me smile, and I just felt like acknowledging them. Their name is Petrichor110.)


	6. Chapter 6

(A/N sorry for short update, I just couldn't leave you guys hanging like before. I'm busy with show, and also have people staying so access is limited. )

He startled me for a second, and my more wild side took over, and I leaned in closer. But then I remembered about the experiment and thought clouding and I pull away abruptly. I must get out of these handcuffs, so I can properly explore this room. I began to dislocate my wrist, but then I remembered the small doctor beside me. I should probably warn him.

" John, I'm going to dislocate my wrist in order to get out of these handcuffs." he barely acknowledged me. I took this to mean he didn't mind, so dislocated it and slid out of the handcuff with a sickening pop. When I moved away, I saw how cold John was in the small, heat less room. I walked around, tapping the walls and noticing how thin they were. Freshly painted. Easy to conceal things in. I looked over to John. He shivered. Without a word, I came up behind him and enveloped him in my long limbs. He tensed for a minute, then relaxed into me and turned a face into my neck. He reached around me to gently clasp my curls. And this time, this time I let him when he started little hot, open mouthed kisses on my throat. I wouldn't admit it, but good god he was amazing. I softly stroked his arm, feeling peculiar. Yes, this was an experiment. But, strangely, somewhere at the back of my mind told me that John had been through a lot and he needed comforting. I felt his hand stroke my arm, wincing as he felt my wrist. He pulled away to look quizzically at me. I rolled my eyes.

" I told you I would dislocate my wrist. " he mumbled something back about his being traumatised into my shoulder, while placing two strong fingers on my wrist and, in one clean movement, pushed it back together. I flinched, pulling away as he held me closer. I felt the deep cuts made by the lashes of the whip all over him, and the wet patch that was his blood soaked shoulder. It was strange, this urge to hold him closer. An unfamiliar one. An unnatural one. We are both covered in grime and dirt, our blood mixing as he lies in my arms. John is almost asleep when the unmistakable , quiet click of a door opening sounds behind him.

John

I feel him tense beneath me, his wonderful body standing to attention. He was thin, painfully so, and very very pale. I looked at his chest as I tightened my grip on his shirt. I wanted to just hold him close , so he could never walk out on me like this again. I felt his chest vibrate with his smooth baritone as he addressed the thing that made him tense so.

" Valencia, Moriarty, Valencia's twin. Hello. I believe it was you who put us here."

" How touching. A lover's reunion. " Moriarty's Irish lilt twisted the words into almost evil. I heard a slight murmur of ' Go twin , hide' Sherlock's arms tightened around me and I pressed my lips to his neck. He provided the comfort I had been craving for the time we had been separated, and , indeed, the time we had known about each other.

" You avoid the question. " he sounded ice cold, and he nudged my head away from his chest with a twitch of the elbows, inadvertently knocking one of the cuts to my head. I cried out.

" well, I wish I could take full responsibility, but it was Valencia here who orchestrated the whole thing. And John, you have her sister to thank-"

" and I don't need you any more. I have found a better father in Jim." she cut across him, almost as if she were concealing her sister's existence.

" So. Let's get on with this. I am going to enjoy this... We have a game to play. Get your lover up. Come on Johnny boy, get up. Maybe if Sherly dies, we can have some real fun. Or if Johnny dies then Sherly can continue to play. Either way, I must leave you for a bit, watch from a safe distance." a high pitched scream pierces the moment of silence. Mycroft turned to Valencia.

" What have I told you about keeping your sister quiet? Go now and shut her up." I looked up at Sherlock, searching for something in his eyes other than his thoughts. I found nothing. No regrets, so questions, just deductions. His eyes began to light up as he brushed me off and stood me up, wincing as he felt his shoulder.

" I really must go now. I'll see you later, after you're broken of course. Goodbye Sherly baby, Johnny boy." I stood up, Sherlock not offering any help as the clothes rubbed my still highly sensitive wounds. The acid burns dotted about were getting worse, I knew, and the ill fitting clothes did not help. Sherlock began tapping the walls, when a crackle from all around made me jump. Moriarty's voice came through the walls.

" Well then boys. Let's get on with the game with you two lovers." I growled something about Sherlock not being my lover under my breath.

" We all know that you want it Johnny boy, and who can blame you. That detective... Mmm... Anyway! Here's how the game works. I give you a hat, and you take it in turns to pick out tests from the hat. You can either have a one or two person challenge. If you refuse to complete it, then Valencia will make sure that you suffer the consequences. And as I'm sure John knows, she can make life very painful. Whenever you complete three tasks well, you get to have a rest and maybe, just maybe a little food and water. So! " Panels slid out from the walls, revealing several doors and a table, upon which was placed a hat. " Let us begin. Sherly can start. " I looked across at Sherlock. He was already there, trying to see through the impenetrable doors. He shrugged, and turned to the hat. He placed his long fingers delicately inside the hat, drawing out a folded piece of paper.

" Oh! I nearly forgot! If one person cannot complete the test, the other must go in there and complete it for them. " Moriarty's voice burst forth again . Sherlock seemed unfazed, and he unfolded the paper. I wondered how he could seem so cold, so indifferent. He made no sound, only turned sharply to a door as he scanned the paper and handed it to me. As he got to the door, I began to speak.

" No! Sherlock! You can't do this one! " My voice faded into nothingness as the door slammed shut and the piece of paper fluttered to the floor. A screen pushed out from the wall, and I saw Sherlock standing there, in the room and I had to bite my tongue to keep from crying out.

Sherlock

I understood John's concern for me, but it was really unnecessary. It was hardly life threatening. Obviously the tests would get harder. After all, I only had to play noughts and crosses on my arm. The knife was bigger than I expected, and it sat on a metal table across from a burly man. I saw the camera , and glanced across to it to show John, whom I knew would be watching, that I was fine. I lay my arm down , and drew a table. And we played. The pain was beginning to make the edges of my vision white out, and we had to play until I won. The blood stained the front of my coat and scarf, and I decided to keep the soiled clothing on to soak up the blood. I did not win four times, and I could not use my deducing skills as the man had been completely covered. Moriarty really knew what he was doing , you had to give him that. The fifth time, the fifth time it encroached upon my neck, and the blood mingled with the drying stuff from my shoulder. And the fifth time I won. I stood up, and managed to compose myself as I walked out. As soon as John rushed at me, I brushed him aside. I discarded the bloodied garments, and used the torn material of my jacket to bandage my wounds. He began to rush concerns at me, not even mentioning the creepy way Moriarty talked of him and I. I got the feeling that he, as I did, wished to delete it. I did not reply, but gestured to the hat, and he fell silent. His look of concern turned to one of fear. He picked up a scrap of paper, hands shaking as he read the inscription on it.


	7. Chapter 7

(A/N again so sorry for the long wait. I've been so busy ! There should be more frequent updated now but i can't promise anything. As always, I love to read your review so please please please review!)

" Sherlock... I can't do this.. I just... Even though I know we have to... I just.." he began to sob.

" I know . It could bring back the night terrors. " even though he was in distress, and we may die , I needed to continue my experiment. As long as I could convince myself it was only an experiment, then comforting and embracing was ok. I wrapped my arms around him as his sobs began to subside, my blood mingling with his. I guides him to the door.

" Come on John. You don't want the consequences."

" you're supposed to be a genius, aren't you? " he stopped me in my tracks. " Can't you get us out of here? Sherlock?" the door slammed shut and he fell into the room, an image of him projected onto the wall. He stumbled around, seeing images of war. A gun lay on the floor. A panel slid away to reveal a mini -although looking like a real - battlefield. By instinct John picked up the gun, and when the fire started at him he dodged the bullets, firing away. The people started to get closer and closer, and he began to falter. Each time he did so, a shot clipped his shoulder. He winced, and finally he was up close. He shuddered, hands perfectly still, and fired a shot. The simulation disappeared, he collapsed onto the floor. I rushed to the door, hammering on it hard. It did not yield, and I bloodied my fists, barely noticing while watching John's pale body on the screen in the corner of my eye.

John

The pain blinded me, and I felt so heavy. The blood stained me, and I saw those people that I had just...shot before my eyes again and again. I was so heavy, I could not move. I tried to move to the door, to get to where I knew Sherlock would be, and where my heart hoped he would be beating the door to get to me. But my head knew that he would be cooly waiting to examine this room before Moriarty locked it. I tried to shift out of the pool of other's blood, but I could barely lift a finger. The door swung wildly open, and a bloody , tousled Sherlock burst in. The grazes on his knuckles coincided with those gained by beating a door. He looked wild, and picked me up. I frowned slightly at his coat less and scarf less state. I then saw them shredded on the floor in a heap. He laid me on this heap, ignoring his own wounds and peeling back my jumper.

" Sherlock!" He ignored me and continued.

" You are injured John, I may as well try and fix at least some of the wounds I inflicted upon you. " I stared at him, flabbergasted. He was caring about me, so unlike the sociopath I knew, and he blamed himself entirely for this mess . These past few days had gone by so fast that I hardly knew what had happened, but I was certain of one thing; that it was not because of Sherlock. The perfect man before me, with his raven curls, could never cause me pain , I was sure.

" Sherlock, whatever this mess is, be sure to know that it is not your fault- aargh!" he dug out the lead bullet, standing up as Moriarty made another appearance.

" Hello sweetie! You need to pick again, I won't tell you twice. Poor Johnny boy, it's just like being back in Afghanistan. Johnny can have a minute, nothing more. I see he's a little pale. Not as pale as those other people will be now. " A pile of bodies fell through the door I just came through. I shrank from it, seeing their faces. Sherlock stood in front of me , obscuring my view as he helped me sit. When a blank faced lackey of Moriarty's took away the bloodless forms, Sherlock sat beside me. He held me up, and allowed me to lay my head on his shoulder. It comforted me, to feel human warmth, and for the short time I had to rest I felt the most content I had in while. A loud cough from the wall made me jump.

" Time's up Sherly baby, you have to pick with Johnny now. " Sherlock stood up swiftly, grabbing a piece of paper from the hat and crouching beside me.

" You must go to the door, and answer quiz questions while the other one stands by the camera and Sebastian. Whenever a question is answered wrong, Sebastian shall punish the one by the camera. You must choose who goes where. " Sherlock read aloud.

" It's obvious. I have to answer questions. " I answered.

" No. I am the genius here ,John. I will always get the questions right, and you will never get hurt. "

" That's what he thinks you will do, so he would make the questions about things that you don't know about. " I replied, annoyed at Sherlock's patronising demeanour.

" No, no. You are thinking about it too much. I WILL answer the questions" he ran to the door, and shut it before I could get to him.

" Stupid man.." A man came in, who I assumed was Sebastian, and he smiled.

" I'm going to have a lot of fun making the famous detective hurt. "

" But it's me, not him you're hurting. " he smiled knowingly. I was confused.

" And what is the great detective's weakness? You. Seeing you hurt hurts him." A picture of Sherlock flickered onto the screen as Sebastian positioned himself behind me.

" Maybe, when he's done with you, the boss will let me keep you" he hissed into my ear. I shivered at his suggestive tone, paying attention as Moriarty's voice floated into the room.

" You've made your decision. Time to see how Sherly does then." Sherlock stood still, his posture perfect , contrasting with his pale face and bloodstained shirt. I could almost see the wheels turning as he organised all knowledge he was likely to need. I still felt like Moriarty had tricked us , though. I felt as though he would ask the questions that I would know and Sherlock wouldn't. But I trusted him, completely and wholly. I swallowed, painfully aware of my broken wrists healing badly, my numerous cuts and the marks the whip had left. Sebastian shuffled so he was so close I could feel all the curves in his body, all the muscles that I felt sure could hurt me badly. Sherlock looked sideways, and I noticed a screen identical to the one I was watching set up , showing me and the burly man standing behind me, towering over me. A ticking started.

" What is the closest planet to the sun? " a voice said, deadpan and proper. Clearly not Moriarty's then. Sherlock attempted to look calm, while his eyes darted around as he found that he did not know this piece of simple trivia. The ticking quickened and Sherlock's eyes began to show his terror at not knowing, and knowing the consequences. The ticking ceased. The terror grew, ah I found myself shaking. He looked sideways at his screen. Sebastian moved away and I was aware of people entering the room. I did not scream, nor did I run. I simply stood and tensed myself.

Sherlock.

I could not move as I watched him get stripped roughly to his underwear and chained to a frame by his wrists. Despite the danger, I could not help bit admire what good shape he was in. I then saw his wounds, and a sharp intake of breath from him reminded me of his wrists. The man whom I assumed was Sebastian was now alone, and stood behind John, running his hands down his back and up his legs, along his arms and up his neck to his face. A long, many fronded whip drew across his body three times, leaving his other wounds open and a fierce red colour. I saw the pain on his face, saw him try to keep calm. The ticking started again, and I readied myself , keeping an eye on John.

" Oh dear Sherly baby. Seen your Johnny hurt?" I clenched my fists, trying to keep my mask up. " Next question. Who is the current prime minister? " I mentally kicked myself. I had deleted this, thinking it to be useless. John bit his lip, mouthing something at me. I couldn't tell what it was. Sebastian noticed his efforts, and put a gag across his mouth. The ticking stopped and I watched with growing horror as John's shoulders slumped, blood trickling from all over him, wounds all reopened. Sebastian leaned and whispered something into his war that made him straighten up. It was six lashes this time, more than before. I barely noticed as the ticking started again, transfixed by the pain scrawled across John's face. I dimly registered a voice asking me where the current monarch currently resided at. I just ignored it, knowing that I did not know the answer and that paying attention would mean missing something that happened to John. The time I had got less, and I saw Sebastian deal twelve blows to John, and then get his knife and reopen the wounds that depicted John and I. John grimaced, trying very hard not to cry out. My mask was slipping, but at the moment I was too concentrated on John to care or do anything about it. Questions were asked and I tried to answer them, but in getting them wrong John got more hurt. Moriarty sounded happy, and Sebastian loosened John's chains to catch him as he fell, and pressed his lips to John's head. I clenched my fists. This could not happen. I did not know or understand why, but it could not.

John

I was in so much pain that I was blacking previous pain and the cause of this one became a blur and a picture of Sherlock's pained face as the facade I saw through visibly slipped away. I felt a pair of lips on my forehead and leaned into it, thinking it was Sherlock in my delusion. But instead of thin arms carrying me, it was bulky harsh ones, and instead of a soft shirt it was a coarse thin one. I realised it was Sebastian and leaned away from him, but in doing so I fell out of the arms that held me up. The cold floor met with my head and I felt a stickiness beneath me.


	8. A Christmas Pause

First of all I would like to apologise for not updating in so long. A lot has happened and I have had massive writers block. Also, because it is nearly Christmas, I wanted to have a break from this and do something sweet and Christmassy. So I am putting this on hold until I am done with my Christmas fic. Pm me if you have anything you want me to do,but so far the plan is to do John's Christmas list, Sherlock's Christmas list, Christmas at home and Christmas with the families. Thanks!


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